


For the Record

by DameOfNoDelicacy



Category: Bleach
Genre: (is that a thing?), (let's go with yes), Boys Kissing, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, One-Shot, Yaoi, dancing makes good foreplay, lots and lots of flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameOfNoDelicacy/pseuds/DameOfNoDelicacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“...Shunsui?”<br/>“You gonna spit it out, handsome?”<br/>“When you were young…”<br/>“Yeah?”<br/>“...did you ever learn to dance?”</p><p>Ukitake Jūshirō and Kyōraku Shunsui take a late-night, summertime stroll through the Seireitei - and they find themselves enraptured by the strange, unexpected, and not altogether displeasing sounds - almost like music - coming from the Fifth Division Captain's window.<br/>Put a little differently - Shinji's record player must have been one heck of a novelty at some point, right?<br/>(A sweet, romantic one-shot, set shortly before Turn Back the Pendulum takes place. I've gone back and forth between rating it "M" and "T" - settled on "T," but there are parts that get mildly, mildly suggestive. Thanks!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Record

Usually, summer evenings in the Seireitei were quiet.

This time of night, you couldn’t expect to hear much more than the odd, muffled laugh from a darkened street corner, drunken revels from inside dimly-lit sake bars, and, underneath it all, the steady thrum of crickets chirping cheerfully to one another through the humid air. Every now and then, the cries of sleepless children and the hushes of their mothers might pierce the dark, and, even more rarely, the grating, empty howl of a lonely hollow might shatter the stillness from far, far away in the distant Rukongai – but, thankfully, not tonight. Tonight was still, almost silent. Tonight was a night of bliss, of ease, of thoughtless happiness and taken-for-granted freedom. Tonight in the Seireitei, there was only peace.

And tonight, if you happened to pass by an alleyway that forked lazily away from the main road that ran through the Eighth Division’s territory, you would hear footsteps. They were light footsteps, and they were just out of sync – because, as Ukitake Jūshirō and Kyōraku Shunsui knew from long years of experience, it’s awfully hard to match another person step for step when you have an affectionate, kimono-clad arm slung over your shoulders, or a pale hand slipped lovingly about your waist.

“I gotta say,” grumbles Kyōraku, stumbling a little as he stoops to press his nose against Ukitake’s cheek, “it’s a real shame you don’t share my fondness for sake. It’d save us the trouble of having to make this trek night after night, y’know…”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ukitake says, raising a black eyebrow and pulling his face just an inch or so away from Kyōraku’s, “but I believe it’s _you_ who insists upon drinking in your quarters at the Eighth and sleeping in my quarters at the Thirteenth. Isn’t that right?”

“Well – yeah, I s’pose, but that’s my point, Jū-chan! If you liked sake, you’d keep some at your place! And then we wouldn’t have – ”

“You mean _you_ wouldn’t have – ”

“– this problem!”

“I do keep a little tucked away for special occasions – you know that – ”

“Awww, no - _that_ stuff? That watery stuff Sentaro-kun picked out, like, fifty years ago?”

“Yes,” Ukitake says, laughing, “ _that._ I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more disgusted look on your face than when you tried that sake!”

“Tch. You’re being awful generous, Jū-chan. That stuff barely qualifies as sake as far as I’m concerned.”

“ _Terribly_ sorry, Shunsui.”

“No, you’re not, you old, tea-loving sap.”

“No,” agrees Ukitake, grinning and tipping his head sideways so it rests on Kyōraku’s shoulder, “I’m not.”

Kyōraku smiles, acquiescent, and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You reinforce my point with every word, handsome,” he says. “If I wanna drink, I gotta drink back at my place.” His smile fades, just a little. “And gods know I always wanna drink.”

They turn onto the main road. Ukitake glances up at his friend, whose rugged face is swathed in uneven shadows thanks to his straw hat and the glow of torchlight. “Sleeping at the Eighth is still out of the question, hmm?” he asks quietly.

“And run the risk of falling victim to my Lisa-chan’s four prying eyes and two dozen prying questions? I don’t think so.”

“Mm. That’s fair enough.”

“I’ll say. Call me crazy, but I’m not too interested in giving my lieutenant a play-by-play of our nightly escapades.”

After a moment, Ukitake cocks his head to the side, a mildly puzzled expression coming over his features. “You can’t honestly think that she doesn’t know about us by now?”

Kyōraku considers. “Eh,” he finally replies. “She’s never said anything specific, but I’m sure she knows. She’s a sharp one, my Lisa-chan. And besides,” he adds, letting his hand travel down Ukitake’s back until it finds the curve of his ass through the layers of his haori and shihakusho, “I’ve never been too subtle about demonstrating my affections.” And he gives Ukitake’s ass a small squeeze.

“That,” Ukitake says, twining his fingers through Kyōraku’s and bringing both of their hands to rest against his side, “is _very_ true.”

“And you think it’s endearing as hell, don’t ya?”

“Endearing?” Ukitake smirks. “Maybe a _little_ …”

“A _little?”_

“Maybe a _little_ …”

“Maybe a _lot…?”_

“Maybe a – h-hey! Shun - !” But Ukitake can’t finish the word, because Kyōraku cuts him off with a quick, chaste, closed-mouthed kiss. The kiss only lasts for half a heartbeat, but Ukitake feels pleasure ripple through his entire body all the same, and he feels the corners of his lips, still molded against his friend’s, turn involuntarily upwards into a tiny smile. It’s true – there is, undeniably, a part of him that adores and admires this shameless side of Shunsui. “All right,” he concedes, after Kyōraku pulls away. “Maybe a lot.”

They fall once again into disjointed step, bodies pressed a little closer together than they were before. They’ve wandered out of the territory of the Eighth Division, and into the territory of the Fifth. Here, the streets are populated somewhat less sparsely. Ukitake and Kyōraku pass a rowdy knot of swaggering, staggering Academy students who shush each other and straighten their backs when they catch sight of the two approaching Captains, and, a block or so later, a few silent, sober Fifth Division patrolmen making their rounds. Ukitake bids the patrolmen a good evening; Kyōraku surreptitiously rolls his shadowed eyes at his friend, but tips his hat to the patrolmen all the same.

“To return to your original question, Jū-chan,” Kyōraku continues breezily when he and Ukitake have the streets to themselves again, “the bottom line is – the fewer nights I spend in my own division, the better.”

“And why is that?”

“I swear, if Lisa-chan keeps waking me up the way she does - ”

(“Ah,” says Ukitake, with a knowing nod of his white head.)

“ – I dunno if I’ll live out the year.”

“She doesn’t kick you in the head _every_ day, Shunsui,” Ukitake, who has himself been present for a few of the Eighth Division lieutenant’s gentler wake-up calls, remarks pointedly. “Sometimes,” he says, chuckling, “she throws pillows.”

“True.”

“And she’s been known to dump the odd bucket of cold water on your head, too, hasn’t she?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Kyōraku says, shaking his head as though trying to rid his shaggy curls of a lingering droplet or two. “Oh-hoh, but say!” he adds, flashing Ukitake a wicked grin, “she’s added a new method to her arsenal. These days, she sometimes smacks me with one of those raunchy illustrated scrolls of hers. That, I don’t mind so much.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, man. The structural integrity of those things is sketchy at best, so they kinda tend to fall open after she whacks me with ’em…”

“ _Ah_.”

“And lemme tell ya - some of these modern artists - _man_ , they really know how to give a guy an eyeful.”

“I’m sure they do.”

“You better believe it. I oughta show you, sometime, Jū - we could even take a look together, if you want! I’m sure I could snag a few scrolls from Lisa-chan’s collection when she’s not paying attention - ”

“Oh - I wouldn’t want you to go to the trouble - ”

“No trouble, my friend. It’d be a straight-up pleasure!”

Ukitake considers, lips pursed coyly in thought. “...you’re sure?” he asks, though the question is a mere courtesy; he knows full well what the answer will be.

“ ’Course I am!” Kyōraku sings out, just as Ukitake predicted he would. “It’s a date!” He lowers his voice just a touch, and, in what he no doubt intends to be a sneaky and seductive whisper, says, “And y’know what? I betcha you and me might be able to put the pictures we find in those scrolls to… _practical_ use, if you catch my drift… those artist-types are pretty damn creative, after all…”

“Are they, now?”

“Mm-hmm… _”_

“Mm-hmm?”

“Mm- _hmm…”_ With his free hand, Kyōraku cups Ukitake’s chin, and sweeps his thumb along his friend’s soft, pink bottom lip. “I’m gettin’ all excited just _thinking_ about it, Jū-chan…”

“Do you want to go back? Pick up one of Lisa-san’s scrolls and take a look tonight?”

“Hmm.” Kyōraku slowly retracts his hand and takes stock of his surroundings. “Nah,” he says, after a moment. “We’re too far away already. Ain’t worth it.”

“Some other time, then,” Ukitake agrees. He turns his face towards Kyōraku and tilts his head upwards, so that his mouth is mere centimeters from his friend’s ear. “Quite all right,” he says, his voice low. “You and I have managed perfectly well without those scrolls in the past...” And on a whim, he nibbles on the tender skin of Kyōraku’s earlobe.

Kyōraku’s breath hitches for the briefest of moments. “Be still my beating heart,” he manages, clearly a little surprised. “A public display of passion from you, huh, Jū-chan?”

“I daresay I’m allowed a bit of spontaneity every now and then,” Ukitake hums. He licks Kyōraku’s ear once more for effect, and then draws away, a faint flush, part embarrassment and part unadulterated lust, creeping into his pale cheeks. “The streets are empty here anyway,” he adds. “There’s no one around to see.”

“Still...”

“I… suppose the thought of Lisa-san’s scrolls has gotten me a bit excited, too, Shunsui.”

“A _bit_ excited?”

“A bit.”

“Just a bit, huh, Ukitake?”

“Shunsui…?” A flicker of nervousness, followed instantly by a subtle warning, flashes across Ukitake’s face. “Now, wait just a… are you…?”

“How excited are you, Jū-chan?”

“Shunsui....”

“C’ _mon_ …” Kyōraku says, halting in the street and seizing both of Ukitake’s shoulders. “Like you said… there’s no one around to see…” Kyōraku’s hands slide down Ukitake’s chest, pressing against firm pectorals through the rough fabric of his kosode.

“ _Shunsui…_ ” Ukitake says again, but the word dissolves into little more than a broken sigh, because one of Kyōraku’s hands keeps moving, down, down, _down_ , and Ukitake races to catch it with his own before it reaches a place that, by his modest reckoning, should not be reached in the middle of a public thoroughfare, no matter how deserted, and no matter how late the hour. “Please,” he asks, almost breathless already, looking steadily into Kyōraku’s clever eyes.

Kyōraku shrugs, resigned, and settles for stealing one more deceptively innocuous-looking kiss. “All right,” he says. “If you absolutely insist, Jū-chan, I can wait ten minutes.” He favors Ukitake with a face of exaggerated disappointment. “You can’t blame a guy for trying, though.”

Ukitake only laughs, and slips back into Kyōraku’s lopsided embrace. “Thank you,” he says softly, and Kyōraku nods in response. With that, they quicken their pace ever so slightly, and walk on in the general direction of the Thirteenth Division Captain’s quarters.

 

***

 

They hear it only faintly, at first.

They’ve made it nearly to the edge of the Fifth Division’s territory. They’re passing the Seated Officers’ barracks, and the Captain’s quarters are just in sight when the first sequence of strange, unexpected sounds crackles through the air.

“Shunsui? Do you - ?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do... what do you think…?”

“I’m not entirely certain - ”

“Me neither - ”

As they step further and further forward, closer and closer to the Captain’s quarters, the sounds grow louder. There’s a bizarre kind of order to the sounds - elegant, rich, high-pitched timbres tangle with languid, mournful tones, and beneath it all, there’s a rhythmic regularity just barely tying it all together - there’s a crash here, a clash there - it almost sounds like -

“Music?” says Kyōraku, squinting through the dark as if he’ll be able to see the answer somewhere ahead of him.

“I think it is,” Ukitake concurs slowly. “Or… it’s something _like_ music, at any rate. And it sounds like it’s coming from - ”

“From the Captain’s quarters, yeah?”

“Look!” whispers Ukitake excitedly, bright green eyes fixed on the top floor of the building. “Hirako-Taichō’s left his window open!”

“And he’s still got a lamp goin’ inside, looks like…”

“How,” Ukitake wonders, brow furrowed in immense concentration, “is he doing that?”

“Dunno,” Kyōraku, beneath an equally furrowed brow, replies.

“All of those sounds are coming from his quarters, aren’t they?”

“Seems that way.”

“I’m not detecting any strange sources of spiritual pressure anywhere in the Fifth. Are you?”

“Not a one.”

“And the Captain’s own spiritual pressure seems completely normal.”

“Sure does.”

“How,” repeats Ukitake, his already deep frown deepening even further, “is he _doing_ that?”

There’s a lapse in the sounds, then. Ukitake continues to peer intently at the Fifth Division Captain’s open window, frozen in his curiosity. Kyōraku nudges his friend gently with his hip. “Whaddya say we keep walkin’, eh, Jū-chan?” he says, his thoughts already straying again to the tender kisses and the deft ministrations of familiar fingertips that he knows are in the not-too-distant future.

Ukitake, still making a determined study of the window, only replies with a soft “Hmm?”

Kyōraku chuckles. “C’mon,” he says, prodding Ukitake’s arm. “I’m sure Shinji-san’ll be happy to give you an answer tomorrow morning, if you ask him.”

After what feels to Kyōraku like an absurdly long moment, Ukitake finally pulls his gaze away from the Fifth Division barracks. “I’m sorry,” he says, a sweet, sheepish smile crossing his kindly face as he meets Kyōraku’s eyes. “You’re right, of course - Hirako-Taichō has always been very open about his eccentricities, hasn’t he?”

“That he has.”

“Shall we walk on, then?”

Unable to help himself, Kyōraku presses his lips to Ukitake’s forehead. _He’s the perfect height for kisses like this,_ Kyōraku, as he does every time, reflects. “Yes,” he says, catching himself matching Ukitake’s smile. “Let’s.”

They take two, perhaps three, purposeful steps - and then the sounds begin again.

Ukitake stops.

“Jū-chan - ”

“I - I’m _sorry_ , Shunsui, I - ”

“O- _kay,_ ” Kyōraku says, making a swift about-face and whirling his startled partner around with him. “You wanna crack this little mystery tonight?” Kyōraku lays a hand on the small of Ukitake’s back and ushers him forward, so that the two of them stand beneath the open window of the Fifth Division Captain’s quarters once again. “Then - let’s make it happen.”

Ukitake shoots Kyōraku a sidelong glance. “You… don’t mind?”

“Well... a _little_ , I s’pose... but, heck,” he says, offering Ukitake a ridiculous, devilish wink, “I’d hate for you to be distracted _later_ , y’know. And besides,” he admits, “I’m... kinda curious myself.”

They stand together in silence. Ukitake leans gently against Kyōraku’s broad chest, his massive, muscular frame offering Ukitake’s slender bones some small respite from the trials of the day. He sighs, softly, and Kyōraku, feeling Ukitake’s body relax, slips both arms around his friend and wraps him in a warm, protective embrace, and clasps his large hands together on top of Ukitake’s stomach. He dips his chin and lets it rest on Ukitake’s shoulder. “This ain’t so bad, Jū-chan,” he murmurs, and Ukitake laughs as Kyōraku's sake-tinged breath tickles his neck.

“It isn’t, is it?”

“Nah. Not at all.”

Ukitake turns his head sideways - not quite far enough, at first - and, blindly, seeks Kyōraku’s lips. After he finds them, and after the two of them share a brief, clumsy kiss, only the corners of their mouths touching, Ukitake lays his own hands on top of Kyōraku’s, and says - “I love you, Shunsui.”

Kyōraku’s eyes drop closed. He buries his face in the soft hair gathered at the nape of Ukitake’s neck. “And until the day I die,” he whispers, his faint words muffled by the mass of white, “I’ll never know why.” And he holds Ukitake even tighter, pressing hard against the contours that years and years of exploration have forever etched into his memory. _So weak_ , Kyōraku can’t help but think, as he feels the peculiar, stilted cadence of his friend’s breathing against him, _but - so strong, too._ “I love you, too, Jūshirō.”

The sounds floating down through the nighttime air from that wide-open window are different now than they were before. The sounds before were wild, rash, brash - but the sounds that reach the two love-locked Captains now are unhurried, luxurious. The rhythm is slow; the flow is easy and cool, like a sly, autumn breeze.

“Definitely music,” Ukitake says after a moment, his voice low and dreamlike.

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s… rather nice, isn’t it?”

“Mm- _hmm_.”

“I’ve... never heard anything quite like it before…”

“Me neither…”

“...but - it _is_ rather nice.”

“Mm- _hmm._ ”

Maybe it’s unconscious; maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just part of what happens when you find strains of new-fangled musical genius cascading down into your ears on a hot, summer night - but whatever the reason, before long, Kyōraku feels Ukitake begin to sway in his arms.

“Jū-chan? Are you...?”

“Say - ”

“Mm?”

“I’m all right, Shunsui,” Ukitake says first, in answer to Kyōraku’s unfinished question. “I am - promise.” He untangles himself from Kyōraku’s grasp and twists around to face his friend, and he drapes both arms around Kyōraku’s neck, fingers mingling with unruly chestnut curls. “But I couldn’t keep myself from thinking - because of this music, you see - this strange, beautiful music - ”

“Yeah?”

“Well - ” Ukitake looks to the ground, and then sidles to his right - and then to his left - and then back to his right. “Shunsui?” he asks, bright eyes snapping up again.

“Mm?”

“When you were young, did you…” And Ukitake shakes his white head, a look somewhere between bashfulness and amusement splashing across his features. “Did you… did you ever…”

“Just say it, Jū-chan,” Kyōraku urges gently, reaching forward and drawing his knuckles along Ukitake’s sharp jawline. When he reaches Ukitake’s chin, he lets his fingers splay, and drags his hand across Ukitake’s chest and down his side, finishing the gesture by wrapping his arm around Ukitake’s waist and pulling him close again. “S’okay - just say it.”

Ukitake’s still taking those odd, little left-and-right steps. With the two of them clinging to each other like this, it’s nigh on impossible for Kyōraku not to find himself caught up in the motion, too. His partner steps left, and Kyōraku follows; to the right, and Kyōraku follows again; back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until, before Kyōraku fully knows it, they’re stepping around and around in a tiny, tight circle, their feet and shoulders tripping and rolling to the languorous pace of the music.

Ukitake grins.

“...Shunsui?”

“You gonna spit it out, handsome?”

“When you were young…”

“Yeah?”

“...did you ever learn to dance?”

And Kyōraku laughs - a great, deep, full-bodied laugh. “So _that’s_ what we’re doin’, huh?” It’s Kyōraku’s turn to shake his head now. “Man, oh, _man_ , Jū-chan, it’s been centuries since I’ve done any proper dancing!”

“Do you remember how?”

“I - uh - _maybe,_ if I - ”

“Try?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” Ukitake’s beaming. “Yes, do try, Shunsui! Come now - you’re taller, you lead - ”

“I - I’m not sure I know the right steps for a song like this, Jū-chan - ”

“Then make them up! Go on, Shunsui - lead, won’t you? I’ll follow!”

“Uh.”

“You can’t really get it wrong, my friend,” Ukitake says quietly. “And on the off chance that you _do_ manage to mess up horribly - well. It’s only me.” And he bestows two quick, sweet kisses on Kyōraku’s lips, which are parted in uncertainty - one on the top lip, and one on the bottom. “I won’t mind.”

Kyōraku’s face twitches into something like a smile. “...all right, Jū-chan,” he says. “For you.”

They start slow. “Here,” Kyōraku mutters, “here… if… if I take your hand, like _this…_ ” He laces the dark fingers of his right hand through the pale ones of Ukitake’s left, and begins his own conservative version of Ukitake’s back-and-forth steps. “Is… is this okay, Jū-chan?” he asks.

“Mm- _hmm_ ,” Ukitake replies, hooded eyes gazing, heated and happy, into Kyōraku’s.

“...yeah?”

_“Yes.”_

“O… o-okay…” Despite himself, Kyōraku’s smile grows. “Then… what about…?”

Kyōraku releases his hold on Ukitake’s waist. Ukitake takes his cue, and spins outwards, body whirling like an elegant, white children's top, but eyes never straying from those of his best friend. Kyōraku raises both of their hands in the air, and Ukitake ducks underneath their arms, spinning and spinning and spinning, before, finally, returning once again to that back-and-forth near-stillness opposite Kyōraku.

“You remember more than you let on!” Ukitake teases lightly.

“Guess so,” Kyōraku, who is beginning to enjoy himself immensely, replies. “Wanna see what else I remember?”

“Yes, please!”

“All _right,_ then _…_ how ’bout we try…”

 

***

 

And so, they dance.

Swept up in wave after wave of carefree elation, of ridiculous physical improvisation, of undeniable friendship and trust and love - and of a small degree of absurdity, too - they dance. Ukitake altogether forgets the mystery of the Fifth Division Captain’s music, and Kyōraku altogether forgets his former hesitations. They lose track of time, and when the sounds grow more upbeat again, they alter their pace to match - they’re alternately letting out boyish cries of laughter, and desperately hushing each other - it’s _late_ , after all, and they’re _Captains_ \- soldiers are sleeping, and it’s important to maintain some semblance of dignity and self-respect -

And it’s only when they hear faint footsteps approaching that they cease their self-indulgent motions, collapsing against one another in a panting, flush-faced heap.

“...Captains?”

Ukitake and Kyōraku are still sporting matching grins. They’re both well aware that they must look perfectly silly, but Kyōraku, both because he’s a master of quick, clever talk and because he’s the one who catches his breath first, offers a smooth, “Evening, Sōsuke-kun. Beautiful night, ain’t it?”

“Ah…” manages the rumple-haired Fifth Division Lieutenant, glancing quickly from one sweaty, smiling face to the other, “...indeed, it is.”

“Out for a walk, Fukutaichō?” Ukitake asks.

“Ah… yes.” He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. “As you said, Kyōraku-Taichō - it’s a beautiful night.” The Lieutenant glances upwards. “And you?” he asks. “Have I caught you admiring my Captain’s new toy from the World of the Living?”

“Looks like you have,” shrugs Kyōraku.

(“Ah- _ha!”_ exclaims Ukitake.)

“It plays music,” the Lieutenant explains. “I’m not sure how, exactly - and, frankly, I’m not sure that most of the noise that Hirako-Taichō prefers can be aptly deemed ‘music’ - but I’ve never had a very discerning ear.”

(“Mmm,” says Ukitake.)

“He claims to enjoy it, at any rate.” And, as an afterthought, the Lieutenant adds, “And it seems he isn’t the only one.”

Kyōraku smirks. “That’s an accurate assessment, I’d say, Sōsuke-kun. We thought it was pretty snappy. Didn’t we, Ukitake?”

“Quite so,” Ukitake agrees, still smiling broadly.

“Mmm. Well. To each his own, I suppose,” the Lieutenant says. His gaze lingers, it seems, for a bit longer than it needs to on Kyōraku, and then on Ukitake, before he rolls his neck and turns around, making his way towards the doors of the Fifth Division barracks. “To each his own…”

“Good night, Sōsuke-kun!” Ukitake calls through the darkness. He and Kyōraku just see the Lieutenant raise a hand in parting before the doors slam closed.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Ukitake asks absently, when he’s sure that the Lieutenant is out of earshot.

“Hmm? Sōsuke-kun?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Yeah, I think so. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh - it’s nothing, really. I’m sure he’s fine. It’s just - Hirako-Taichō’s approach to leadership strikes me as somewhat more lax than a boy like Sōsuke-kun might prefer.”

“Yeah?”

“On the surface, at least. You and I both know how skilled and attentive Hirako-Taichō is, of course - ”

“Yeah, I get you -”

“ - yes.” Ukitake frowns. “That, and - well. Sōsuke-kun… he’s never seemed…”

“Happy?”

“Not really, no.”

“Yeah. I agree, Jū-chan.”

Kyōraku allows his words to settle in the air before he speaks again. He knows that it’s no use trying to wrench Ukitake out of one of his contemplative moods; Ukitake needs to be entreated gently, if the evening is going to end the way Kyōraku wants it to. “Hey - Jū-chan?” he says softly. “Let’s not worry about Sōsuke-kun any more tonight, okay? He’s a smart boy. He’ll be just fine.”

“You… really think so?”

“I do.”

It takes nearly a full minute, but eventually, Ukitake chooses to believe Kyōraku’s words. “All right.” And for the second time that night, he says to his partner, “Shall we walk on, then?”

Kyōraku slings his arm over Ukitake’s shoulders once more, and the two of them resume their meandering campaign across the Seireitei. He turns his head sideways and plants a long, firm kiss on Ukitake’s cheek.

And Ukitake laughs - an honest, glad laugh.

And Kyōraku smiles - an honest, glad smile.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kyōraku says.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, oh, /man/ - it felt good to write some fic again, my friends!  
> I meant to get this little piece written in time for Shunsui's birthday (July 11), and - well. Clearly, that didn't happen. I kept putting it off (mostly because it's been one heck of a busy summer), and finally found myself feeling pretty jazzed (heh) to write this thing towards the beginning of August, and... then Chapter 685 came out. So. Um. Not gonna list any spoilers here, obviously - but suffice it to say that it didn't leave me feeling terribly inclined to write fluff.  
> But I've finally - /finally!/ - managed to cobble something together, thank goodness - this is the first time I've uploaded to AO3 since May (right?!), and I'm /thrilled/ that I'm pleased enough with something to post it here.  
> So - er - enjoy the fluff, I s'pose! I figure we could all use a little ShunUki fluff in our lives. (Especially those of us who've followed the manga - and especially now, I think.)  
> Thanks for reading, everyone - and, as always, enjoy!


End file.
